


Why Arthur Never Gets Drunk

by Saphira424



Series: Magical Arthur Verse [1]
Category: Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gwaine Being Gwaine, Magical!Oblivious!Arthur, Pranks, drunk!arthur, oblivious!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphira424/pseuds/Saphira424
Summary: Too many drinks to count later, and Arthur finds himself with a very illegal spell from a druid. Now armed with magic, Arthur begins the long journey of repealing the law. That, and Merlin can never know he has magic. The idiot is too terrified of it, and Arthur can't lose that support.





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur stared at the paper before him. The faded paper was anything but innocent, yet the king found himself drawn to it despite the evil he knew was written there. Without thinking, his hand unrolled the parchment with practiced ease as someone who had done it several times before and, like every other time, drew back at the first sign of ink.

Breathing deeply, he berated himself. He was a king, dammit! He had faced sorcerers and dragons and unwanted marriage proposals; this was nothing. With new resolve he unraveled the paper and laid it flat before him.

The spell inscribed there in shoddy, smudged ink sat below a short note.

_King Arthur Pendragon,  
Here upon this paper is the spell, phonetically translated for your use. I hope it serves you well._

_forbearnan_

It wasn't signed, but Arthur knew were it had come from, and how it had gotten there. Vague impressions of a druid emblem from a very drunk brain flashed through his head.

Arthur rarely ever let himself get drunk, especially as a king, but it was the end of a hunting trip gone wrong- and oh how many go wrong. They had a run in with a scouting group, one of many they've seen in the last year, all bearing a similar mark that meant one thing: Morgana was ready for war.

The village they had rested at was small enough to not recognize the king, but large enough to have a tavern. Gwaine probably visited it in the past. Arthur shed his knightly attire and went in common enough clothes to pass as a simple soldier; he had barely been a man the last time he had done this. He needed a drink, and badly.

The man he had sat by ordered him a few, saying how he knew the hardships of a life of war. Arthur accepted them, seeing as the look of the man wasn't much different from his own: ragged, with weary eyes and a strife burdened soul. It wasn't until Arthur practically forgot his name did he realize that the man hadn't taken a single sip. Oh, that and his arm had a very familiar marking.

"You're a druid?" His speech was significantly slurred to the point of near incomprehensibility, but Arthur's memories had a bit more dignity than that.

"I am, and you're the king of Camelot."

"Huh, I am. I should kill you! Why do I do that again?"

"Because you believe magic is evil."

"That's right, it is. Very, very evil. I'm very, very drunk."

"Yes I do have a part in that I suppose. Sorry for the bit of subterfuge there, but I figured the only way to get you to ask questions you cannot normally is to get you out of your right mind. I do apologize."

"What questions?"

"You're curious about magic, of course. I'm willing to provide you with what you wish to know." And the druid was perfectly correct. Arthur could never take the law on its word alone, and after Morgana, he could never trust his father's word either. What else had he lied about?

So the king of Camelot asked question after question on magic. The truth was what he was after, or even the other biased side, who knows, but he didn't stop until he passed out. Much of the answers were lost in the alcohol, but there was one he regretted the most.

"Can you learn one spell and not be evil? Like, lighting a fire maybe. I always watch Merlin- have I told you about him?"

"Plenty, m'lord. I feel like I know him personally."

"You're snarky for a druid, but anyway. Merlin, he always struggles during a storm to light a fire. What if I could just, I don't know, magic one up? Would that make me a sorcerer, or does just one spell not count?" And so the druid challenged him to find out. A paper slipped in his pocket, and one more drink, found Arthur in the terrible predicament.

He considered sending men out to find the druid, but realistically, how well had his father's witch hunts gone in his later years? Arthur had searched many a home in his youth for 'signs of sorcery' but experience taught him sorcerers had no definite traits. Fools and wise men, the high and mighty and the low and lost, all could hide the evils of magic. Sight alone cannot identify a sorcerer.

And afterall, Arthur had asked for this.

Merlin opened the door to the chamber with the telltale scent of breakfast, surprised to find the king awake a dressed- properly at that! It interrupted Arthur's thoughts enough to let the paper slide shut as his hand snapped to a much more innocent position.

"There you are, late as always Merlin. You do realize that as a king, I'm expected to be productive during the day? Surely a concept a lazy idiot like you doesn't understand, but could you at least try every once in a while?" His usual barbs echoed weak, even to him. The nerves coming from the damning paper coursing through his blood and voice. If Merlin noticed, he did not comment on it.

"Well, sire, I'm surprised you managed to dress yourself today, let alone get those pants on. Did you add a hole in your belt?"

"Are you calling me fat?" The familiar banter eased some of his tension.

"Of course not, just... hearty."

"Well then Merlin, since you're so concerned about your weight, I'm sure I have plenty for you to do that will keep you moving." Arthur said dryly, and began a long list of chores than ensured Merlin wouldn't see any of the king today. With a huff and one thrown goblet later, Merlin left the chambers. Well, perhaps there had been some whining and sass thrown in too.

"Back to the spell then." The king muttered, as if saying it outloud made what he was doing any better. He gave a short, derisive laugh, "I'm a hypocrite. Look at me!" He waved his arms around for emphasis, speaking to hush the voices in his mind.

Sitting down once more, Arthur faced his fireplace.

"Just one spell, simple. And there's no chance it will work of course! That's right, I can't use magic, it's evil. I can say this spell all day and it won't light that fire." With renewed vigor, he lifted his hand towards the charred logs and said the spell. The fire didn't light, no flame brought forth through magic. With a relieved, and slightly dissapointed sigh, Arthur went about his day in a reflective mood.

He hadn't noticed the brief spark in the corner, nor the flash of gold in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

When Merlin returned to Arthur with supper, he found the king in a significantly better mood. The prat had seemed on edge that morning, and there was something about his stance that had Merlin concerned all day. That and the paper.

Had Morgana finally declared war? No, there would be a meeting for that, or he'd at least have told Merlin. This was something else. Maybe one of his many previous fiancées were getting married, and saw fit to invite Arthur. But still, the king wasn't one to get embarrassed easily. What couldn't, or wouldn't, he tell the servant?

Whatever it was, it seemed to resolve itself as Merlin saw no trace of the parchment and Arthur was acting more confident. The warlock would place a few wards anyway. Could never be too careful, especially against something unknown.

Or maybe it really was just Mithian getting married.

"Well, Merlin," His voice was practically cheerful. The servant in question suppressed a shudder. "I've decided that I'm going to keep you busy every day this month to teach you a lesson."

Arthur's arms were crossed in that smug way. Merlin didn't bother suppressing the groan.

"What lesson could that possibly teach me? Hard work? Character?"

"To stay out of taverns."

"But I never-"

"No excuses Merlin. You never know what trouble you'll find there, especially if you're drunk. And besides, I need a manservant. If I wanted a hungover idiot, I'd ask Gwaine to fill the job. Now go home, and if I find out you've gone to the tavern again, you'll be in the stocks for a week."

Wide eyed at the sudden, and very odd, outburst, Merlin found himself pushed out of the room and a door slammed in his face.

"Gaius?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Never, ever tell Arthur I've gone to the tavern again. I don't care what else you can come up with, I don't. Just not the tavern."

"I haven't used that excuse in a while, why bring it up now?"

"Because Arthur is convinced I'm there during every second of my free time, and yes I know, if he knew where I really was I'd be dead. But still, he went off on this rant and apparently I'm going to be working twice as much since he's 'teaching me a lesson.'"

The old man huffed, but commiserated with his nephew all the same. Arthur would forget by the end of the week. It was probably just another excuse to work his servant harder than usual.

By the end of the month, Merlin felt like he could barely walk.

Arthur had gotten in some self-righteous mood. Merlin would've lamented if it hadn't seemed like the king was trying to fend off some embarrassed guilt he'd suddenly acquired. Another month of this, and the young man didn't think he'd come out sane.

"Alright, you prat, what has gotten into you?" Hands rested on hips as the servant cornered the master.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't think you do either, would the stocks help?" Pulling the stocks card before calling him an idiot was bad- and so early in the banter! He watched as Arthur danced around the room, pretending to look over papers and appear busy. Merlin knew better than that.

"You've been in a sour mood all month. I've been working left and right all day every day, you'd think you were avoiding me! I've mucked out the stables so many times, I don't think a single stable hand has cleaned up so much horse shit in their careers as I have in the past thirty days, so fess up."

"There's nothing to confess." It sounded weak, so much so that Merlin was taken aback. At Merlin's ever questioning look, Arthur continued with fake bravado, "I'm the king, I don't have to answer to you."

Merlin knew a dismissal when he heard one, but apparently he hadn't realized the depths of the king's ire at the moment. It seemed Arthur was as tightly wound as a spring, ready to burst and lash out at any second. Something was happening, and Merlin didn't like it. An enchantment maybe? But Arthur was still himself, even if he was angry. Nothing was too out of place, there just wasn't a logical reason behind the mood, except…

Merlin wondered where that small paper had gone, the inkling of suspicion back.

As for Arthur, well he hadn't been able to take his mind off the spell. Even when it had failed, that small feeling of disappointment was enough for him to go back and try it again. And again, the spell failed, but Arthur caught his reflection in the mirror this time, the telltale flash of gold in eyes that should never have had it. It was addicting.

_So this is why magic is evil. It's too damn interesting to stop._

And stop he couldn't. Every week, he tried the spell again at least three times. The forth week, he managed to light the fire. He felt, well he felt something that's for sure. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was a familiar warmth, like a furnace in his chest. It didn't feel new, but rather like he had just rediscovered what was already there.

The fire had only stayed lit for a minute or so, before it snuffed out of existence. Arthur had to sit down from the exhaustion of it. It was like when he first swung a sword: only a few hits before his arms caved from the pressure. Magic was an unused power, a muscle in atrophy, and here was the king of Camelot flexing the very illegal practice. When would the Pendragons stop being hypocrites?

Ah, the other thing the king couldn't get out of his head: the law. Under the law, Arthur should call this an enchantment and find the druid who had given him this temptation, should murder the ones trying to show him the truth. But Arthur was not his father, and now he could not even follow his own rules. Why then should the people of Camelot be expected to follow them, let alone die as a consequence of failure to adhere?

It would be a slow process, but Arthur wouldn't let the unjust rule stand. That, and he wanted to find a new spell to practice. If every magic user was terrified that they'd die if he even looked their way, who then was going to teach him?


	3. Chapter 3

Before Arthur could even begin to sort his inner thoughts, he was forced to face his changed opinions in front of a crowd. A man had used some sort of spell to transport materials from inside his house to the roof, where he was making repairs. He lived outside of the city's walls, but some men on patrol had stopped in his village and caught him in the act. He was brought before the king, in chains of course, to have a trial. In the past, fairness was a joke when it came to magic, but that was then, and now was now.

"What is your name?" The questioning began, and Arthur felt every sense heighten. He could hear the breathing of every man, their eyes boring into his soul as if they could see the corruption. But no, he knew better than that. They were the corrupted ones, those who murder from hate, or follow the ones who do. He could see that now from the other side. He knew who he was, and magic hadn't changed it.

"Tomen, sire."

"How many spells do you know?" It was an odd, question. Several of the onlookers began whispering, but the king already decided that he didn't care about their opinions anymore. His father's men could bicker all they want; Arthur no longer sought approval from them. He swore then and there that he would escape his father's shadow.

"Just that one, sire." _Does just one spell not count?_ Before he could make things right again, Arthur knew he'd have to be a hypocrite, at least in the public's eyes. He had no choice to sentence the man, but that didn't mean someone would die tomorrow.

"For the crime of magic, the law has no other punishment. You are hereby sentenced to death at dawn tomorrow." A glance to his right and his eyes were locked on to Merlin. Fear, and no small amount of sadness, could be found there. For a brief second, the servant met eyes with his king, before shutting out all emotions. It was so quick; Arthur could pretend he had imagined it, but it wasn't this instance alone. Every mention of magic had been followed by a similar expression, a similar emotion. Merlin was terrified of magic.

No matter what happened, Arthur could never tell Merlin. He couldn't bear the thought of his best friend hating him.

Merlin watched in mortified horror as the man was sentenced to death. There had been no sightings of sorcerers throughout all of Arthur's reign, not until now. Some part of the warlock had hoped that there wouldn't be, that he wouldn't have to watch his friend murder his kin.

When he realized his friend was looking at him, he schooled his expression. Arthur could never know his thoughts, not if he wanted to live. The king's stance on magic was clear, and Merlin couldn't afford any suspicion, at least not yet. Without an outward sign, Merlin began formulating a plan to break the innocent man out of the dungeons. It really wasn't that hard.

Arthur was doing the same thing. He didn't know how to unlock locks or put guards to sleep, though those were two spells he was actually eager to learn. That would make hostage situations so much easier to escape from, after all. He was, however, well versed on the guards' routes and the layout of the dungeons. Acquiring keys would be ridiculously easy, considering he had a set himself if he was that desperate. No, it wouldn't be too hard to break the man out. Even if he was found missing, Arthur could divert the searches away from him.

When night fell, two shadows moved about the castle, ignorant of the other.

Arthur got there first, with no concern of being seen to slow him down. Who, after all, would suspect the king who passed the sentence to break the criminal out? Arthur approached the guards at the entrance to the dungeons. He had made sure there were none present right outside the cell.

"Sire?"

"I'm here to talk to the prisoner. If people in the outlying villages are learning magic, I want to know from where." It wasn't a lie, per say, but the motivation was a little different than usual. The two men nodded and let their king pass. It wasn't like they wouldn't have let him go if he hadn't said anything.

In five minutes, two different guards who didn't have a conversation with the king would be there instead. Those two guards would also find themselves asleep, though Arthur didn't exactly know that.

Merlin watched the guards change positions. The two that had been patrolling the halls took a stand at the entrance to the dungeons and the others, now relieved, went home. Once the others were out of sight, Merlin tilted his head, and his eyes flashed gold as the men slumped against the walls and began to sleep.

Arthur worked fast, using the keys he had swiped from the one guard to unlock the door. He shook the sorcerer in the corner awake. The man had woken with such a start, Arthur had to cover his mouth so that he didn't cry out too loud. With a nod, which the man reciprocated, Arthur let go.

"Milord- "

"I'm breaking you out. Don't ask questions until we're safe in the forest." Arthur unlocked the man's chains and hoisted him to his feet. "Come on now, we need to run."

Merlin hugged the shadows as he snuck towards the occupied cell, only to find it unoccupied. Confused, he searched for signs of what had happened. A discarded key ring lay just within the cell door. It seemed the man had rescued himself then. A small smile on his face, Merlin made his way back to his room. He would sleep significantly easier that night.

Arthur would not. As soon as they hit the tree line, the man began sobbing. Numerous thanks were interrupted only by questions galore. The king shushed the man, and began his own questioning.

"The spell you know, what exactly does it do?"

"Sire?"

"You, or anyone you mention, will have no harm come to them. All I ask is that you answer me honestly, and then tell every magical person you know what happened here, and that the same will be done for them."

"Thank you, sire. My God, thank you. Ah, the spell! Yes, it only lifts an object up, a levitation spell. Well, you can move it around with more practice I've heard, but I'm not that skilled."

"Is it hard?"

"The weight of the object has no real difference, but the farther you lift the object, the harder it is to cast it, requires more concentration."

"And the spell itself?"

"May I ask why do you want to know?" The man said hesitantly, fearful the question the king. Arthur briefly considered telling the truth, then considered lying. Both seemed unwise. Another reason perhaps?

"Many magic users wish to see me dead, and I need to know the spells they're casting so I can counter appropriately. Those like you who simply are using magic for peaceful reasons shouldn't fear, but instead those filled with hate like my sister." The explanation seemed to satisfy the man.

"The spell is _inbringe cume mec_."

"Thank you. I doubt you can go back home, and for that I am sorry. There will be searches for you, but I'll make sure they don't last long. Good luck."

"Thank you, sire. I'll spread the word of your mercy."

"Remember, only to the magical community. I'm working to change the laws, but I cannot have scandal following my every action. Be discrete."

"I will." The man bowed low to the king, out of choice this time, then fled into the darkening forest. Arthur watched him go for a time, before heading back to the citadel himself. With another spell to practice and the bells ringing, Arthur didn't get much sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The number of sorcerers caught in the months following the initial 'Tomen' incident, as Arthur began calling it, was innumerable. It seemed that Tomen was quite capable of getting the news out amongst the magical community, and every sorcerer who could afford to be uprooted wanted to see if it was true. The king of Camelot was planning on repealing the laws at last.

Merlin, however, was ridiculously on edge. Arthur almost pitied him. How the thought of so many sorcerers still free must have scared the poor servant. The king wished he could show him the good in magic, that it wasn't to be feared, but the few times he tried to bring it up ended in disaster.

"Merlin?" His voice had been soft, approachable even. Merlin went from banter mode into serious mode. They were so in tune anymore; the tone of the conversation could change instantly.

"Yes Arthur?"

"What's your opinion on magic?" It had visibly caught Merlin off guard, and the man almost dropped the basket of laundry he had been holding. Arthur gave him a chance to steady himself. Evidently, the king had no idea how deep the fear went. "I just, I don't think I've ever actually asked you your opinion."

"Why are you asking now?" No matter how hard he was trying, Merlin couldn't hide his emotions, not this time.

"There's been so many sorcerers caught, I just thought-" He could see the panic begin to set in, eyes darting across his face as if to test for some thought, to look for some sign there. Arthur knew a lost battle when he saw it. "Never mind. Go be an idiot elsewhere, preferably where my clothes will be clean."

Merlin took the chance to escape, and Arthur pondered his predicament. Merlin always supported him, always. He didn't know if he could do this, change everything like this, without the annoying boy by his side. If he had ever needed Merlin, it was now, but it was obvious that he would never support the legalization of magic. Even if he could convince him that it wasn't all evil, would his friend ever trust him again?

It was four months since the druid. Arthur had acquired a good number of spells, and worked on them every chance he could get. If Merlin found out that he had magic- a thought that he was getting more comfortable thinking- could he ever forgive him? Arthur needed the foundation, but if not from Merlin, then whom? He considered Gaius, but the man was too close to Merlin. There was too much risk, too much of a chance that he would find out. After briefly making a mental list of people he trusted, Arthur knew. The answer was obvious, even if he didn't know how he would tell them. His closest knights were his, not his father's, and surely they would understand. He had broken the law for them, after all. Leon would be the only one he would hesitate with, but even then the man had known him since he was a child. Arthur knew he could trust each and every one of them.

Set with newly found determination, Arthur began thinking on how to tell them.

Merlin, on the other hand, was breaking down. Piece by piece, every sorcerer caught and sentenced left a hole in his heart. None had died yet, but he had only freed two. The rest had either escaped on their own or had been freed by another; Merlin wasn't sure yet. The dungeons weren't hard to break out of, but yet not many arrested during Uther's reign had gotten free on their own. Well, if someone was helping him out on that front, who was Merlin to complain. Just as long as Arthur never found them, and as long as they were peaceful, Merlin was content to leave them be.

Even though there had been no deaths, the young warlock was on edge. After that conversation with Arthur, he thought he just might die of paranoia. Was Arthur suspicious? Did he think Merlin had freed all those sorcerers, that he was a sympathizer? Never mind that he did have the intentions of freeing them, but how would the king have guessed? The question circled in his mind. _What's your opinion on magic?_

_Oh Arthur, if you only knew._

That's when Gwaine came around the corner, running straight into Merlin.

"Mm!" A biscuit in his mouth and a hand out to steady the servant, the knight nodded and kept running, away from the burly cook who certainly did not like her food stolen. Laughing at the incident despite the swirling in his mind, Merlin decided to wash the clothes by magic later, and took off after the knight.

They passed the physician's quarters, where Merlin took a moment to drop off the basket, then ran all the way to the ramparts. He ignored the raised eyebrow and sigh of his guardian. He would endure the speech later, for now he needed something fun. Gwaine, satisfied that he had lost the cook in the maze of the castle, finished his biscuit and greeted Merlin properly.

"How do you manage to get the cook running after you for just one biscuit?" Many knights had gotten away with much worse and only a swat on the head.

"Well, mate, you see it wasn't just one biscuit." Gwaine pulled out three more and an apple. Merlin rolled his eyes and grabbed one. The knight gave him eyes resembling a puppy, but that didn't stop him from taking a bite. No, if anything it encouraged him.

"I get one for running around the castle with you. I haven't had lunch yet and I'm starving." Gwaine gave him a second biscuit and half of the apple, a sacrifice considering the knight's known love of them; there was little he wouldn't do for his best friend, though, even if he knew Arthur held that spot with Merlin.

They ate in amiable silence, or rather Merlin ate in silence while Gwaine prattled on about some tavern wench or some unfair rule the 'Princess' was trying to enforce upon him. The summer sun shone bright upon the pair, and the servant felt his muscles relax at last. Merlin loved the constant chatter, especially since he didn't have to provide it; it gave him some time to think. So lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice when it stopped, nor when Gwaine leaned forward, his head resting on his arm and his eyes with an odd gleam.

"Alright, what's wrong?" Merlin snapped out of his thoughts, the first coherent one to return remarked at how similar the question was to one he had asked Arthur months ago. The king had deflected it, but Merlin, startled as he was, blurted out the truth. Lying was an oxymoron to the warlock; he was brilliantly good at it until someone asked the right questions.

"Arthur asked my opinion on magic." If Gwaine's eyebrows could go any higher, they wouldn't be on his face.

"Yeah, I suppose that does startle a sorcerer." Merlin snapped to attention immediately.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Yes, and plate and cutlery fly across the room on their own." Gwaine remarked dryly, but with a smirk too borderline a smile to be taken seriously.

"You've known since then?"

"No, but I've had my suspicions. You just confirmed them, though the little guy on the bridge calling you magic might've clued me in." Merlin noticed the hurt in the knight's eyes, but he didn't know the words to apologize. Gwaine understood regardless. "I know why you didn't tell me, I'm no fool despite what Princess might think. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think he'll hate you. When he finds out, that is. Will he be pissed as all hell? Yeah, can't see him taking this well, but he could never hate you. Nobody could."

Merlin couldn't say anything, just sit back and wonder why he hadn't appreciated Gwaine as much as he should have. Him and Arthur might be best friends, but there was a place for Gwaine that nobody could fill. Someone had to support Merlin, and there was nobody better than the hidden noble pretending as a commoner knight.

"Thank you." The servant finally managed to say, and both knew it was for far more than just that conversation.

"Oh, and Gwaine? I'm a warlock, not a sorcerer."


	5. Chapter 5

"I have magic." Arthur sighed, though not in relief, "I'm an idiot, that's a great way to tell everyone: just blurt it out!" The king had been pacing away in his chambers for hours.

Trying to figure out what to say to all of the knights had Arthur in a foul mood, because there just didn't seem to be any words that could express what he needed to, at least not to a group. The more the king considered it, the more he wanted to tell each knight individually. It would cause less chaos, less rumors. He could also judge each reaction individually, instead of seeking the collective approval. Arthur knew immediately who he would tell first.

"Leon, may I have a word with you?" Arthur had taken him aside after training the following Monday, anxious to tell someone his secret; lying to friends was too hard. Knowing he would be lying to Merlin for a long time

"Sire." The knight lifted his head in a show of respect.

"In private, if we may. Meet me in my chambers within the hour. I have something of great importance to discuss with you alone." Leon's brow formed many creases, his concern plain.

"Is it Morgana?"

"No, but it is of a magical nature." Nodding to his king, the knight left to freshen up before the rendezvous.

With a heavy heart, Leon lifted his hand to the wooden door and knocked. After the customary 'enter,' the knight walked in and shut the door tightly behind him. Arthur's face was grim, but the man was also fidgeting relentlessly. That, however, was not the first thing Leon had noticed.

"Where's Merlin?"

"I did say it was for you alone." Arthur defended.

"Yes, but alone has always meant you and Merlin." Arthur shook his head immediately.

"Merlin cannot know!" The vehemence in his voice had Leon drawing a blank. Never had Arthur demanded something be hid from his best friend, at least not that adamantly. "Leon, what I am telling you must not leave this room. You are forbidden to speak about it outside of private meetings such as this, and even then only when I say it's okay."

"Arthur." Whatever it was, it was serious beyond what Leon could guess. The king dropped his head into his hands, pulling at his hair and mustering the courage to tell an old friend a new secret.

"I have magic." The drop of a pin could be heard if one had been present. Leon would've began laughing if the face of his friend hadn't been so tormented. With confusion and denial, he began to shake his head.

"Milord, what do you mean? You don't- you of all people couldn't have magic!" Arthur motioned him to sit, and began to tell his tale. He started, of course, with how he got the terrible idea to get drunk. By the end, Leon was still shaking his head, though a vastly different expression had taken over his features.

"I'm still having a hard time believing all of this."

"Then let me show you."

The next knight to tell would be Percival. He was the one Arthur knew the least, but seemed the most levelheaded. He had grown up outside of Camelot, and the king knew that any friend of Lancelot's would be a worthy man. There was just something about the muscled man that gave off such an aura of kindness.

He had told Percival much in the same way as he had told Leon, except with a bit more confidence. Leon had reacted surprisingly well, to which he explained was due to the amount of undeserved mercy he received at the hands of the druids. It was a consideration Arthur hadn't made when choosing who tell first, but in hindsight, he should've known.

Percival had reacted with a rare, but full smile. Being a man of so few words, when he began speaking, Arthur didn't dare interrupt.

"The druids had taken me in when my family was killed. I had been with them until I met Lancelot, who convinced me that you were someone to follow. He was right." The king was taken aback, but fully intrigued now.

"I don't think I ever really knew Lancelot's view on magic. I don't think I ever bothered to ask anyone, actually."

"He held great respect for the druids, the magical and non magical alike, but he was always very careful when I asked him why. I think he might have known a sorcerer, perhaps been good friends with one. It's the only thing i could understand not speaking about." Arthur mourned for the lost man even more. If anyone could have spoken to Merlin about magic, it could've been Lancelot. "Who else knows of this?"

"Just Leon, though I'm planning on telling thebrest of the knights as well."

"Merlin?"

"No." Arthur knew Percival would get the hint. The man was more perceptive than he looked.

On by one, Arthur was astounded at the reception each knight gave him, at the sheer respect he commanded from these men. He had told them each that he was planning on repealing the law, and each time they gave him their full support. Perhaps his father hadn't bred fear into all the corners of the earth, or perhaps the sincerity of his son was finally undoing the damage of decades of death.

It didn't matter anyway, change was coming. The last knight Arthur had to tell was Gwaine.


	6. Chapter 6

When Gwaine had heard that what Arthur wanted to talk to him about was of a sensitive, magical nature, he had slightly panicked. Princess couldn't have figured out Merlin, not that fast. He had never seen the forest for the trees before, so why would he start now? Perhaps it was for another reason, another magical issue besides his hidden warlock protector. With this attitude, he met with the king.

So when the first sentence went something like 'you'd be proud of me Gwaine, I got so drunk I ended up passing out,' Gwaine was caught off guard. The knight who was rarely sober had enjoyed the lead in, though, and found himself relaxing as he teased Arthur about the ordeal. He had even put his feet up onto the grand, kingly table that Arthur loved so much. Princess had scowled at him, but trying to stop the knight from doing anything was always futile.

"How was that the next morning?"

"Absolute hell, combined with the fact that I found a spell written on some parchment in my pocket. It wasn't the best start to a week."

"A spell?"

"My drinking partner happened to be a druid." Arthur said dryly. The king had become more comfortable after every conversation he had, and by the time he decided to tell Gwaine, saying 'I have magic' came easy. He had grown to be a pretty decent sorcerer over the past month or so, and denying he was anything but would ruin him in the end.

"Ha! Seriously?" Gwaine let his feet drop back to the floor as he changed slouching positions. It seemed like Merlin wasn't in trouble after all. "I hope you're not planning on hunting the poor man out, he was probably too drunk to realize that you were the king of Camelot before it was too late."

"He hadn't drunk a drop." Arthur turned serious, and Gwaine felt that it was a bit of a touchy subject. "And no, I won't do that. I had asked for the spell."

"You asked for a spell. Mate, I don't know if you care as much, but you've been sentencing sorcerers to death for a while now, and I'm not sure I can support a hypocrite." Gwaine said it in a teasing tone, but there was a seriousness about him as well. "At least you've admitted you won't try to find him, but will you still kill his kin?"

"I was curious on magic, and drunk out of my mind. I asked questions, he answered. So I ended up with a spell, that was just the means to the end. I had already been willing to look for answers. What I tell you now isn't to leave this room. The other knights of the round table know, but no one else. Do not, under any circumstances, tell Merlin this. That spell? I can use it. I have magic. All those magic users I've sentenced? I'm the one who broke them out as well." Gwaine's face dropped all expression, becoming completely blank.

"Are you kidding me?"

" _Forbearnan._ " When the fire lit in Arthur's hand, the knight finally let himself believe the ridiculous situation at hand. Don't tell Merlin! Of course not, the poor warlock could never handle this! The king watched as the knight put his head in his hands and began to shake. Unsure of what to call that reaction, Arthur tentatively reached out a hand, but pulled back when Gwaine became louder. He was laughing at him. Leaning back fully now, the drunkard couldn't stop laughing.

"Well, isn't this just interesting?! Listen, Arthur, I have a perfect plan for a prank, and since Merlin would never agree to this, let alone believe me in the first place, you're going to be the sorcerer to help me."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I can't believe you both learned magic separately, I just can't. You all are too ridiculous, honest. No wonder I'm drunk all the time, I don't know anyone who could take this kind of idiocy sober!"

"Gwaine!"

"No no, listen! This is perfect. Absolutely perfect."

"What, pray tell, is so perfect about this? I was trying to ask for your support in repealing the ban, but since pranks are more important to you than the fact that I'm forced to sentence people to death for a crime I myself am committing, well then who am I to contradict?" A bitter Arthur was not a playful Arthur, and Gwaine needed the latter for this. Returning to a serious expression, Gwaine did something he promised not to do.

"You have my full support, believe me, but everyone knows you can't do this without your luck charm. Merlin needs to know, and before you go on about how he'll hate you- yes I can guess what you were thinking, don't give me that look- you need to know something about our good mate. Merlin is a warlock."

Looking back, Arthur knew he was an idiot. So many coincidences that couldn't be explained by conventional means, so many times that a perfectly healthy tree branch had dropped on someone's head when the tide of the battle wasn't quite in their favor. For the love of Camelot, how many times had he been told that something couldn't be defeated by metal alone and they were all defeated, only to come to and have Merlin tell them they won. A bloody dragon! Merlin had been his good luck charm, but where the luck was magic. For such a terrible liar, his friend had kept this one so hidden, nobody could've guessed it.

"I had guessed it last week-"

"Dammit!"

"Aw, did princess realize who was the real idiot in the group?"

"Shut up Gwaine."

"I'm not Merlin, you can't tell me what to do. Now listen, this prank is perfect and if you stay in this stupid, reflective mood, you'll ruin everything." Arthur sighed. There was nothing that could stop Gwaine from a good prank, and Arthur was thankful that he wasn't on the receiving end, but he also wanted to talk to Merlin immediately. He told Gwaine just that.

"Listen, you could talk to him, but he's been lying to you for years. I know you're going to be bitter about how long later, but for now, do you want to make him squirm? Just for fun, of course."


	7. Chapter 7

Hunting. It always had to be hunting, because God forbid Arthur find a way to destress that didn't involve murdering innocent little creatures. They hadn't caught anything yet, but the king seemed more intent on conversing with his closest knights- his closest friends- than he was actually making a kill. This didn't stop him from complaining about Merlin, though.

"Could you at least try and be quiet? You've scared off half the forest already," Arthur bellowed. It was a little counter-productive, and Merlin made sure to point that out. "Shut up Merlin."

They had two days, one night, before they needed to return to Camelot. Arthur masterfully shot a doe, the only kill of the day, and called it quits. Fire crackled in the middle of a small clearing as the knights claimed sleeping spots. The best and closest to the fire was always taken by the king himself, but there was an unspoken rule that the servant got the next best spot. A lovely aroma lofted through the air as dinner was served.

"Delicious as always Merlin!" Gwaine spoke between bites, and it was the only compliment the servant had received all day. That didn't bother the warlock though, as long as he still had some food left for him. That one time they had gone after the dragon egg worked out in his favor, but it was still mean in the end. A slight frown wormed its way onto his face as he left to grab more firewood.

Merlin never worried too much about fitting in; he was bound to stick out like a sore thumb no matter where he went. And yet, something about the past few days had seemed even more off. Ever since sorcerers started turning up, doubts of his destiny plagued him more than ever. Would Arthur ever really trust him, or would his friend hate him forever. Gwaine didn't, but neither did the knight think his friend would take it well. Arthur seemed so much closer to the knights and warier of Merlin as of late, and it had him on edge.

Maybe Merlin made a mistake. Maybe destiny wasn't as set in stone.

"Mate, you look like we've killed your favorite dog. Cheer up." With a sigh and a fake smile, Merlin joined the group around the fire, voices rising with the smoke.

"How hard do you think a spell is to cast?" Arthur's voice cut through the silence that had comfortable fallen as each meal was finished. Merlin nearly jumped. He continued, "I mean, we see sorcerers do it all the time. Just a few words and someone is dead. Out of all the ways to kill somebody, it has to be the easiest, right?"

Merlin wanted to protest, to say that taking a life is always hard, but it wasn't true. How many had died from his own magic, after all? It was, in a sense, easier.

"Anyone here actually know a spell? I don't know how someone can remember all those weird sounds." It was Leon this time.

"What about for fire, _forbearnan_ , right?" Merlin thought of every spell he could use to prank Gwaine. He trusted the man, too! The servant could feel the nervous sweat begin to form, and his foot was tapping away before he knew it. This couldn't be happening, right?

"Well, let's see you try it then, if you think you know it so well." Did Arthur really just ask one of his men to try and use magic? Merlin felt faint at that point. Gwaine waved his hand towards the extra wood pile and flamboyantly attempted to light it.

"Nothing, sorry. Percival?" And like that, they each went around the circle attempting to light the wood with magic: Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and then Elyan. And as each person went, it got closer to Merlin.

"Well, Merlin, it's your turn." His face was as paper, and his hand shook as he brought it upward. He shared a glance with Gwaine, before butchering the pronunciation, and failing the spell.

The second fire still unlit, Arthur began shaking his head.

"Are you serious, Merlin? A powerful warlock can't even light a fire, can't even say the spell right! Do I have to do everything myself?" Arthur bemoaned.

"Wha-"

"Fine, _Mer_ lin. I'll light the fire." The king's eyes glowed gold as his hand shot out, and the pile was overcome by flames. This time, Merlin did startle, before getting on his feet out shouting.

"You utter prat!" Arthur briefly wondered if pissing off a warlock was wise, as Merlin's eyes were bright and gold and quite scary at that moment. "I can't believe you knew! I can't believe you have magic! How long, Arthur? How long?" The wind began whipping around the camp as the trees howled and creaked.

"How long, Merlin? A couple months for me. What can you really complain about though? How long have you been lying to me?" Arthur jabbed. A small branch fell a few feet away. Yes, maybe this hadn't been a good idea. When did he ever think it was a good idea to listen to Gwaine?

"No, you're supposed to be angry, not- whatever this is! Not have magic, for certain!"

"I'm the king, Merlin, you can't tell me what to do." The familiar banter brought Merlin to a screeching halt. His anger morphed into laughter that bordered hysteria. The mini storm blew over as Merlin's eyes returned to their natural blue.

"I hate you, all of you," Merlin managed to say before the tears began, but there was no true menace behind it. "I feared for my life, Arthur. I thought you would kill me if you ever knew. You have absolutely no idea what our lives are like! Even outside of Camelot, magic users are persecuted. You've never had to fear for your life simply because of who you are!" As soon as it let his mouth, however, he knew that it was a lie.

"Don't tell me that, Merlin. Assassinations aren't rare for princes, or for kings. No, maybe it wasn't as prominent as your fear, but everyone here knows what it's like to risk their lives. You've just done it in the shadows until now."

"I never wanted to lie to you."

"I know, because neither did I."

"Then why did you?" Merlin inquired.

"Honestly, I thought you were afraid of magic," Arthur hesitantly admitted. The knights, all silent, struggled to hold their laughter as Merlin's eyebrows went up in mocking surprise. "Shut up Merlin! You always looked so terrified every time magic was mentioned, I thought you'd hate me. I didn't even tell the knights until months after."

"Where _did_ you learn magic?"

"… so I was drunk-"


End file.
